


Never Had a Heart

by BeesKnees



Series: Two Queens [1]
Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark, F/M, Implied Relationships, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Huntsman bows to two queens now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Had a Heart

He bows to two queens now. He bows from inside a cell, locked tight with chains, where he can just catch glimpses of what is happening — the land continuing to rot, the echo of his queens’ footsteps outside the chamber. Flaxen hair and cruel eyes or raven-dark hair and cruel eyes. They are both the same to him now.

His heart is frozen in his chest. 

It matters not which comes to claim him, because the one claimed him body and the other claimed him soul.  
It is usually Ravenna who comes though; perhaps Snow White doesn’t like to look upon what her work has done, or perhaps she really has forgotten him. But it is Ravenna who is diligent in her efforts, whose shadow continues to linger in the doorway. 

It is Ravenna who will hold him down with her magic, strip him bare, all the while wearing a glinting crown of dangerous and dark metal. They may want to live forever, feasting upon the beauty of the world, but the world is a large place, and they seek a child to share it with — no, not a child. A daughter, for both of them have discounted the value of men. Well, in all ways but one. 

Ravenna will always tease his body slowly, his arms shackled above his head, his legs shackled against the wall. His hair is more of a mane now, slick with dirt that sticks to the back of his neck, the tops of his shoulders. Ravenna calls him beast, animal, as she takes handfuls of it, manipulates him as she will.

She drags razorsharp fingertips across his chest, leaving shallow cuts, his nipples bloodied in the wake of her touch. Small rivulets of blood flow down his chest, sliding over the bumps of scars she has left behind previously. She toys with him, and he hasn’t the heart to fight her any longer, his queen. 

She will stand behind him and stroke his cock slowly, forcing it to rise, and the huntsman doesn’t even tug away from her touch anymore. His body will betray him as it always does, and he will stiffen even though there will be no pleasure from the action. There will be no heated rush in the pit of his stomach. There is simply a deadened sensation, the recollection that he is neither husband nor huntsman nor anything any longer. 

It is only when he has entirely risen that Ravenna will bind him to the floor and climb a top of him. She always sinks herself down in one easy thrust, and he can tell that she also doesn’t enjoy this. There’s a cold flint to her eyes as she moves her hips, the sharp planes of her body swaying as she rides him. It’s hard to find her beautiful in any sense of the word, her lips too despairing, her face too sharp. 

She touches him as little as she can now, as if she suddenly finds his body too much to bear. She’ll keep her hands at her own thighs, holding up the edges of her glittering black dress, and he barely ever sees a slip of her pale white legs. 

She’ll tighten herself, letting out a hiss of breath, a whispered taunt of how he is nothing, and often that’s when he’ll come, as if his body is begging him for mental release, to be allowed to return to the torment and emptiness of his days. 

His queen will still as soon as he’s come, and he never knows if she derives any physical pleasure from their forced meetings or not. He doubts it — but then neither does he care. 

She’ll never stay long as soon as they’re finished. She’ll rise, adjusting the fabric of her skirt and then will reach forward, pressing a cold hand against his cheek, smiling, before locking the cell’s door behind her.


End file.
